


Syndication: Dark Violet

by TrissyTama



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alpha/Omega, Anal Sex, Angst, Beta/Beta, Detective Noir, Drug Abuse, Dubious Consent, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Literally Professionally Edited, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Multi, Omega/Beta, Omegaverse, Slow Burn, Thriller, Tragedy, Urban Fantasy, Vaginal Sex, a/b/o dynamics, intersex omega, suppressants
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:01:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27195502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrissyTama/pseuds/TrissyTama
Summary: After a devastating world war, former soldier and Omega Senn Vamaster spends her nights drinking and forgetting. The night P.I. and former soldier Grant Irnaskova comes knocking at her door, she is dragged into a case that goes far deeper than either of them expected. The two must make sacrifices to keep themselves safe, and Senn learns perhaps she was the one who needed help.
Relationships: Klauvis Paramov/Jelenn Norister-Paramov, Merriam Bernaldi-Irnaskova/Grant Irnaskova, Senn Vamaster/Reiysha Lanmph
Comments: 1
Kudos: 2





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> First time submitting anything on AO3 but certainly not the first time I've written. I apologize if the Tags aren't perfect, I'm still a noob at this. Hopefully everyone will stick around for this marathon. It's very niche, but to anyone who sticks around I hope it's enjoyable! 
> 
> The update schedule for this will be every three to four weeks, usually two chapters will be added per update. 
> 
> Special thanks to my Editor, who wishes to remain anonymous but is nonetheless appreciated. Without them this never would have come to fruition.

  
  
**Senn**   
  


  
Smoke, booze, sweat, and pheromones. The air wafted with thick smoke that burned the eyes and brought relief. 

Senn took a long drag of her cigarette, exhaled, then took another. Her anxiety left with every drag. She quickly replaced each with another. The pack of Kerryjams already felt too light in her hand. Even so, she lit the sixth of the night. _I’ll need to get more on the way back._

A line of empty shot glasses laid before her, along with a pint of a dark, foamy beer she’d been nursing as she’d watched the night’s entertainment— a pair of Omegas. One, a female, with long red hair, a sweet scent, and a small, curved frame. The other, a male, with dark brown hair, a lithe frame, flowery scent, and a chest tattoo. Both danced behind a barrier of spectral bars. Only strings covered them, and barely at that. 

They were circled by an audience of Alphas and Betas drawn in by their twin scents and alluring dance. The jukebox beside another table of Alphas eyeing the dancers played a mix of Jazz and Scat. Filtered by a haze of cigarette smoke, the dimmed lighting reminded her of home.

Every Friday went like this. By nine, Alphas and Betas poured into the bar like cheap whiskey. Eventually, only the worst kind of scum filled the establishment. Scum like her. A pack of male and female Alphas in suits crowded in to take up the two corner booths, some smoking cigars. Every Friday without fail they bought a round for the whole club. A kind of peace offering, if anything. 

Senn never bothered to pay them more attention than necessary, but appreciated the shot that always seemed to appear before her shortly after they arrived. 

Quarter after, the beta man came in, with short cut bleach blonde hair and unremarkable brown eyes. A jagged scar marked him, starting just above his left eye and disappearing down his collar. A regular, judging by the looks that he and the bartender exchanged.

He wore a long black trench coat over a dark dress shirt and vibrant red tie. Freshly shaved, it seemed to her. They made eye contact before he looked away and took a private booth. As he moved she caught a glimpse of his iron— a freshly polished 9-shot with a decorated ivory grip. 

The scent of Alpha pheromones being provoked into a frenzy by the Omega dancers was overwhelming. It gave her a headache, eliciting vexing primal desires from deep inside her. 

She dug through the chest pocket of her jacket, fishing out some bills that she placed on the counter. “Three more rounds.” 

The bartender, a Beta named Merry, stopped drying the glass in his hands for a moment to pour her drinks. He slid three shots of cherry vodka in front of her. “I’ll hafta cut you off after those. That makes twelve. You know the rules.” 

She waved him off, her words slurred ever so slightly. “Ya shure. I know how this works.”

He nodded. His gaze shifted slightly to the performers then back at her. “If you’re going into estrous soon, I’ll pay you to perform up there,” he said casually. “Omegas are getting scarce in these parts.”

“Border disputes and political unrest will do that,” Senn said, downing the first shot before lighting another Kerryjam. “I don’t offer those services.”

Merry shrugged, “You spend so much here, I figured I’d offer. Plus, those alphas would prolly go crazy over an Omega like you.”

She quickly downed the last two shots. “They can shmell me. I’m shurprished they’ve not come over here.”

Merry passed her a glass of water filled to the brim with ice. Just how she liked it. “They’d be all over you already if you weren’t flashing that iron.”

Senn drew her pistol, gave it a twirl, then held it up to the light, admiring its patterned metal. She smiled broadly. 

“She fires twelve millimeter hollow-points at eight hundred meters per second. Unless you’re used to the recoil you’d shatter your wrist….custom made perfection.” she kissed it before holstering it. She’d designed and built it herself. “Good decor, but not my main means of defense.”

Merry cleaned the countertop of her empty shot glasses, wiping it down with a sanitizing cloth. “I took you for a gun nut.” 

“Part of the trade,” she smirked. Any mirth faded quickly however, and with a sigh, she said “I’ll hit my estrous in a few days, most likely.”

“The offer for the job is still up. Our performers are provided with rooms and a place to go through their cycles comfortably.”

Her hand moved from her pistol to the vial of juniper in her jacket pocket. She brushed her thumb across it as she took a long drag. Any anxiety for the inevitable heat she’d go through dissipated. “I have my own way of dealing with it safely.”

He gave a curt nod, setting some drinks on a tray for one of the waitresses to bring out. “When you do, don’t come here. I don’t want you to put yourself into that kind of trouble.“

“You won’t see me for at least a week when it hits.” 

He made an affirming noise, then went to tend to another customer. 

Senn’s head buzzed mildly as she finished the smoke, replacing it as soon as she’d set the remains in the near-full ashtray. She tentatively sipped the water. Closing her eyes, she focused on the chill traveling down her throat. 

A familiar feeling made her skin crawl. A gaze— no, two gazes set on her. She turned her back to the bar, looking out at the crowded mess of faces. They seemed to blend together. 

Two pairs of eyes met hers. Alphas with dilated pupils and noses raised to the air, sniffing. She rolled her eyes as they approached. A sweet smile then lined her face. _I needed to send a message anyway._

They each took the seats next to her. The larger one, to her right, black hair swept back, over gelled but shiny; seemed much more drunk than the other. 

He leaned against the counter. “I thought I smelled something sweet. Where’s your mate missy?”

She cringed, choosing to ignore the larger one as she looked to the other. Younger than the first, and better built. ”Your turn,” she cooed. “Gimme your line.” 

His shocked expression moved to cautious amusement

Internally, Senn struggled with the proximity of the two Alphas. Her subjugated kind had only recently tasted freedom and autonomy. Only since the Preissh Amendment, a little before she was born. Her father had always stressed the dangers of the world. Never walk alone. Cross the street when you see an Alpha. Words she’d refused to heed, especially when she went to fight in the War. There, military doctrine and pheromone suppressants let her compete— they let her fight alongside the Alphas as an equal. 

To these two, she was little more than a potential prize.

After a few seconds, the smaller Alpha replied. “Your scent…. seems like you’re missing one essential mineral....vitamin me.”

Disappointment. Sheer, overwhelming disappointment. “Joy.”

“Hey now, no need to be like that sweetheart,” the larger said as he placed his hand on her shoulder. “We don’t see many Omegas here in Border City. Especially not ones with such an exotic aroma. Why don’t you come sit with us?”

Despite the name, Border City existed as a neutral demilitarized zone controlled by Wranco anarchists and mobsters. Neither Preisshans nor Leimirese could even think of entering the other’s territory without first moving through Border City. A place for criminals and refugees to find solace in a land with few written laws but many implied ones. 

She cocked her head slightly, staring at his hand. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Merry’s concerned stare. “Merry, can I have an empty glass please?”

He nodded, still eyeing the two Alphas with hesitation.

Senn’s attention returned to the one touching her. She sized him up. Though her build often left mistaken for a Beta, Alphas were just bigger. She judged him physically stronger. Alphas always were. Based on the small amount she could glean from the semi-firmness of his grip, his invitation would be more firm the second time around. There wouldn’t be an easy way out, especially with the way her body was reacting to the firm grip. 

“Hm...tell you both what, I’ll give you a kiss and you’ll leave me be,” she said, lighting another cigarette. 

A small gleam of victory flashed in the larger Alpha’s eyes. An approving, low growl sounded. “I’ll take that offer.” 

She exhaled slowly through puckered lips, drawing his attention away from her hand as she gripped the empty glass. When the smoke cleared, he leaned in. Her assault came so swiftly that she surprised herself. She shoved the lit cigarette into his mouth, and shattered the glass against the side of his head. With the same motion she spun in her chair, kneeing him in the jaw. He reeled from the chair to the floor, unconscious.

Before the second could react she’d drawn her iron and touched the barrel to his chin. He froze, mouth open in shock. A hush fell over the bar. 

She smiled sweetly, batting her eyes, cute as a doe. “Careful now. We don’t want to get blood all over those handsome muscles...” she kissed her finger, pressed it to his lips and shoved him away. Not sparing a second glance at the unconscious Alpha, she added, “Clean up your garbage.” 

Senn glanced at the crowd. Eyes were drawn. The table of Alphas, normally unconcerned with the goings on of the riff-raff, steeled their gazes on her with forced disinterest. More pressingly, several other Alpha and a few Betas were eyeing her hungrily. 

Behind the bar, Merry, recovered from his awe, whispered, “Ferr. Quickly.” 

Ferr— roar or howl. A Lakislavic term. She’d heard such a thing on the front more than a few times. Chest puffed up, she roared. The deep, ferocious craze which laced her howl scared off the few who might have thought to challenge her further. Alphas looked after their own, to an extent. She’d almost forgotten how things like that worked.

The table of suit-clad Alphas went back to their drinks. The performers, who until that point were frozen in shock, cautiously returned to their dancing which drew any remaining gazes away. She breathed a sigh of relief, feeling adrenaline pumping through her, among other things. 

“I forget that Border City isn’t like Preissha.” she said, almost panting as she lit a smoke. She fished her pockets for cash, and placed a wad of bills on the countertop. “Sorry ‘bout the mess,” she murmured absently. 

“Nothing like a fight to breathe a little life to a boring night,” Merry mused. “I just never thought an Omega would be the one to establish dominance.”

She breathed her smoke deeply, letting anxiety flee with every long drag. She stared idly at Merry’s amused smile.

“What would have happened here if I hadn’t done that?”

“Hard to say. There’d have been a brawl, at least. Maybe some bodies.” He pushed a second glass of ice water in front of her to replace the empty one. 

_At least, hm._ She felt her cheeks, warm to the touch. Her hand shifted to her chest to feel her heart rapidly beating. A natural reaction to the Alphas’ scents. She hated her body. The prescription from the doctor would expire soon. One day soon she’d run out of suppressant, and that day would suck.

As she scanned the establishment once more she noticed the man in black with the red tie, the Beta, staring at her. He puffed blue smoke from a curved stem decorated with entwining vines along the bowl.

She’d noted his gaze as unremarkable before, but there existed an implacable, cold intent behind them. They’d seen danger and strife. They’d seen the War. 

“What’s his story, the man with the pipe?” she asked Merry, staring back briefly before looking at the bartender. 

“Local guy. Grant, self-proclaimed Private Investigator.” he said, then chuckled to himself. 

“He an Incubator?” she asked, able to catch the barest bit of a familiar ozone odor. 

Merry’s brow furrowed. His lips curled slightly as he mulled over an answer. “Dunno,” he finally answered. 

A patron a few seats down turned her head slowly. She’d been paying attention to the conversation. “Incubators have been going missing recently, girl. Didn’t you know?” the woman said. 

“Betas specifically,” Merry added. “A bit worrying, even for me.”

Senn only gave a passing glance to the patron, even less at the added information. “That sucks. Hope you stay safe,” she said, not knowing what else to add. “Maybe you should have him work on that, if he really is a P.I.”

She put her smoke out in the ashtray and shoved her hand into her pocket. She felt the rough rim with her thumb, and a vial with her fingers. Her lifeblood. 

She needed a hit.

-:-:-:-

Still hot from the club, she mounted her motorcycle. She grinded against the seat as she turned the key and revved the engine. The roads on the outskirts of border city were smooth, paved, and, importantly, empty. She loved the exhilaration of the wind hitting her face, or blowing through her hair. 

At the last light, she’d stopped to feel her skin, slick, and hot. Her disgusting natural urges. If she could she’d have her glands removed. That would give her some semblance of peace. 

Desert sands, cacti, and the glow of her headlights were the only company she’d be getting. Pollution from the city’s lights made the stars nearly impossible to see. She rode out to the remote motel where she’d been staying, picked so that she could see the stars. A modest place, lit by a single cracked light that overlooked the office sectioned off from the tennant rooms. 

Located less than a thousand feet from the Border Wall, it was the furthest place to stay she could find between Preissh and Leimir. The Wall, a structure built after The War, stood nearly two-hundred feet tall, and cast a shadow that fell over the motel even at noon.

Senn pulled into the parking space in front of her room. She dismounted, fumbling with her key before she reached the door. Upon entering her room she fell back against the door, closing it with her weight. 

She slid to the ground, fetching a smoke from her chest pocket. She looked at her pack. Nearly empty. A sad state of affairs for the night. After lighting her smoke she discarded her jacket and shirt, leaving her torso bare. Flicking the lights on, she stumbled slightly on her way to the refresher, or as the Borderers called it, the restroom.

Vial in hand, she quickly found a vein. She pressed the needle into the vial, extracting a small dose of the clear liquid before she jabbed it into her arm.

Instant calm washed over her like waves over sand. She removed the needle and fitted a cotton ball over it before she stumbled back out into the motel room. 

Her breath was slow and shallow. A fluffy, cloud-like sensation filled her with each breath. Calming, euphoric shivers traveled up her spine with each step. 

The motel room was nothing special, only a bed, a nightstand on either side, and a dresser against the wall. The bed and pillows felt angelically soft. 

She kicked off her boots, pulled off her socks, and let herself fall onto the soft mattress and sink deep into it. She closed her eyes, remembering a time when she didn’t move from city to city. A stable time. Before the war.

**Her** face filled Senn’s head. _Reiysha._

  * \- - - - - - 



_The apartment smelled of orange and lemon, a sourly sweet aroma. The aroma of her Alpha, Reiysha. Lounging on the sofa with an inviting smile, she beckoned Senn over as soon as she returned from work._

_“You’re late sweetie,” Reiysha purred as Senn fell into her arms. “Bad day?”_

_Senn breathed her scent deeply, taking solace in the woman’s lavender aroma. She loosened her tie and buried her face in Reiysha’s neck. “I can’t talk about it. You know that.”_

_Her Alpha scented her, then kissed her head as she ran her hand down Senn’s back. “The radio keeps talking about the risk of war with Kelsaslova... If that happens—“_

_“Then we do our duty to our Motherland, Reiy.”_

_The woman pressed Senn to her chest and squeezed, “I don’t want you in danger. Promise me you won’t join the Force.”_

_Senn closed her eyes, tucking her head under Reiysha’s chin, breathing her scent deep with every breath. “We’re not having this conversation. Drop it.” Around Reiysha, Senn knew safety and comfort. But deep down, she also knew that they wanted different things._

_The caresses, petting, and purring made her relax in her Alpha’s arms. She purred back. “The designs are going well. The new variant of smokeless powder is really something, and the new autoloader designs… You should feel them fire. Better than sex.”_

_Reiysha smirked down at her, “I thought you couldn’t talk about it.”_

_Her cheeks warned, and she hid her face. “I can’t, which is why I’m just talking to myself. Got it?” she said, batting her eyes innocently._

_Her alpha rolled her eyes, “Of course, oh most discreet one.”_

_“Fine, tell me about your day then,” Senn snapped._

_“I’ve been laying here, on my day off, waiting for my mate,” she said, running her fingers through Senn’s hair, toying with her long, brown locks. She suddenly took her hair tie, which made Senn’s hair fall over her face._

_Senn blew her bangs away, blinking while giving her mate a look of mild displeasure. “So, like most days, nothing.”_

_Reiysha flicked her nose, causing her to yelp. “Why are you such a rude bitch?”_

_Senn grinned wide, “Why are you such a lazy cunt?” Before Reiysha could flick her again, she rolled away. After catching herself on the floor Senn hopped to her feet, leaned forward, and kissed her mate. “Want to see the project I’ve been telling you about?”_

_“Not_ another _gun Senn, please…”_

_Why did she not just listen?_

\- - - -

Three loud bangs like gunfire stirred her from the haze of her high, and she looked at the door to her room. Another three knocks came, then the sound of a man. “Senn Vamaster? I need your help!”


	2. Chapter 2

**Grant**  
  


“Locate, Book of Clues.”

**_A friend cometh from an old enemy. The ghost of Preissh comes riding a black steed. Mirrored are the wounds, illuminated by shadow under erected barriers._ **

Grant packed his pipe as he stared at the words in his notebook. He struck a match and lit the leaf as he contemplated their meaning. A power he designed around that silly little leatherbound notebook Merriam gave him as a gift. Grant turned it into his Vessel, to help solve the cases he took. He puffed on his pipe while he paced the confines of his office. 

A case found its way onto his desk, from that small, skittish Omega. An albino at that, with striking pale pink eyes. ‘Find the missing Incubators,’ to put it simply. He spent the first few days upon receiving the payment digging up whatever he could find about the lives of each beta. Jobs, crimes, hospital visits, court records. The common link between them all— military service.

Newspaper articles and clippings littered his desk, held together by paperclips, some stashed under an empty whiskey bottle. He circled his desk several times as he contemplated the meaning of the riddle. The book had urged him to Merry’s Bar each night for the past week. Each night nothing had happened. Grabbing his black coat as he fixed his red tie, he strode out into the night, book in hand, riddle in mind.

“An old enemy..” he whispered contemplatively as he entered the bar for the eighth day in a row. 

Through the thick of the smoke their eyes made contact. He immediately knew the Omega woman packing iron to be his goal. He felt the pull towards her, the insistence of that annoying little notebook tugging in her direction.

He watched her, sometimes subtly glancing as she drank, other times directly observing her. He could tell that it made him look like a creep. When she humbled one of the Alphas coming onto her, he couldn’t overstate his intrigue. The lowest of the supposed ‘natural order’, an Omega, subduing a member of the supposed highest, an Alpha. 

Then he’d seen the scar, if only briefly. Her long hair gave way to a long scar from neck to cheek. Jagged and ugly. He knew that scar. It was just like his own, which hummed with pain as he stared at her. 

He’d caught her scent once before, heavily masked among hundreds of men and women, sweating, bleeding, and dying. A sweet scent, he thought, like a fruity glaze. Without any doubt, the Ghost of Courlinde Bulge. A woman— an Omega. Heralded as an unseen wraith, a sniper with no equal and only two failed kills. Staff Sergeant Sennmara Vamaster. A soldier without equal. They’d traded these scars, long ago.

After she’d left, he took almost an hour to sit and think, slowly smoking and relighting his pipe. A little after last call the evening crowd started to leave. He strode to the bar, the leatherbound notebook in hand. 

Merriam, or Merry, as his mate came to be known, released his incubation. ‘Mirage Prison’ he called it. The spectral bars that protected the two dancers vanished, allowing them to walk free.

The two strode hand in hand to the bouncer, an Alpha named Jazz with thick black hair who stood two meters tall. They each locked an arm with him, and judging by the scent of them, strode off for a night of debauchery.

He leaned on the counter, hands clasped together as he stared at the polished grain of the wooden bar top. “She’s the one, Merriam,” he said reluctantly. 

Merry circled around the bar, walking past him as he went about cleaning off tables and collecting the tips to give to the waitresses. “The violent omega with the long hair, right?” 

“Sadly,” Grant parsed his lips. 

Grant waited silently as Merry passed the tips and the nightly pay to his waitresses, told them to get home safely, then had one of his other bouncers escort them out. 

He looked at Grant once he finished, “You looked at her pretty fiercely. Do I sense a history between you?” 

Setting his notepad on the bar, Grant muttered and began the slow process of cleaning his pipe. “She’s the one who gave me this,” he said, gesturing to the scar that marked his face. “You’ve heard of Courlinde’s Ghost, no?”

Merry blinked, then his mouth fell agape. ” _That_ was Senn Vamaster..” He smashed a glass on the ground. ”Right under my fuckin’ nose!” 

Grant chuckled. The competitive force in his friend and lover always drove the otherwise unimposing man to test his mettle. Pitting himself against legends of the era had always been the worst of his vices, even in his younger years.

“They say she killed four incubators at a street light, with a spoon. A fucking spoon,” he said, pulling a spoon from the soapy water, giving a demonstration. 

Grant rolled his eyes at his friend’s display. “That means she’s still just as deadly as she was when she was fresh-faced. Joy.”

Merry hummed a soft but quick tune from one of the new records released by Dicky June. Grant recognized it almost immediately. Merry always hummed when he thought of getting involved in a rousing rumble. 

“If I do bring her here, there will be no fights until the case is solved. Period.” Grant said sternly.

Merry visibly deflated, but still bounced about with some energy as he set clean dishes aside. Then, a look crossed his face as he started another round of dishes. 

“Grant..” he said somberly.

“Merriam?”

“She’s.. just like us, isn’t she? Tossed aside, lost, used.” Any glee melted from him. “We lost the war, of course we’d be forgotten. But her side— they won.”

Grant stared at his notepad, thinking sadly of the fate of countless soldiers like her. “Preissh forgets her heroes.”

Merry nodded, carrying tray after tray of used glasses to the back sink area. Grant followed behind him. “Anlakisla wasn’t any better to us, was it?” Merry asked.

“At least we were able to start lives, Merry,” he said, stuffing his pipe. “There are too many like her, wandering without a home.”

“That has more to do with Border City than with us. Money buys everything here. If we hadn’t pooled we’d be on the street,” he sighed. 

He added, “It’d be the right thing to help her, wouldn’t it?”

Grant placed his hands on the smaller man’s shoulders. Merry tensed, then relaxed when he started to rub them. “Even old enemies?” Grant asked.

“Even old enemies.” 

“I think I know what I have to offer to get her to do the job.”

“Do we even have room?” Merry asked, leaning into Grant’s chest. “We have so many already, the Omegas, Jazz...”

“We can make room, sweetheart,” Grant said, kissing his neck. “I’ll be back later. If I’m not back by tomorrow though, well, consider me dead.”

Horror marked Merry’s features. “Please don’t say that Grant…”

Grant kissed his mate, scenting him as he held him. “Sorry sweetie, I’ll be back tomorrow at the latest.” 

“You better.” Merry said as he kissed him. 

Reluctantly, the two parted ways. Grant knew where Senn Vamaster would be staying. His Soul Vessel called him to her, drawing him to a future partner… or his future killer.

-:-:-:-:-

He left his gun in the car. Going in armed could only end in a cold body, his body. The rundown motel looked barely liveable. He couldn’t imagine anyone choosing to be here for long.

He’d seen her temper at Merry’s bar when she took down that Alpha. He made careful note of that moment. When she struck out, ready to kill, she’d take a seductive tone. Lull her victim, then strike, like the worst sort of femme fatale. 

After locking his car he headed to where she’d parked her motorcycle. A sleek, black 33’ Hawk. Only a few years old. He soon found his fingers trailing the sleek polished chrome of the handlebars

. Senn might’ve looked like a right wreck, but every part of her bike looked new. If it wasn’t, it’d been kept with the utmost love and devotion. He gazed at the door to her completely dark room. No light under the door or dimmed lamp light through the closed curtains. A distantly flickering lamp post was the only source of light for miles. He sucked in a breath, rehearsing greetings and pitches as he paced the lot. 

“Hello Miss Vamaster, I’m Grant Irn, I’d like to offer you a job….” He shook his head. “No, no, no. That sounds desperate.”

He repeated this process, each time he spoke his words became ever more desperate until he finally threw his hands in defeat. He stopped himself at the door, and knocked on it three times. Projecting his voice, he said, “Senn Vamaster! I need your help!” 

_Smooth. Very smooth Grant. I bet you want a medal._

When he received no response, he put his ear to the door, listening. _Maybe she’s asleep,_ he thought, before hearing movement - footsteps as light as a feather. Then came the sound of the latch lock. He took a step back, straightening his posture to appear professional. 

_Play it cool, you can do this._

The door creaked open. In an instant, a blur impacted him. He hit the ground, the wind knocked out of him. His hat flew off into the lot, cold metal pressed into his neck, and a weight fell onto his chest and arms. Senn hit so fast and hard he didn’t have time to think before she pinned him against the cold, cracked asphalt of the parking lot. 

Her voice came cold and groggy. “Name, business and the reason you’re sticking your nose into mine.”

He wheezed, looking up into frigid blue eyes. He tried to move his hand to reach into his jacket for his soul vessel but froze when her gun clicked. 

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you. I won’t ask again. Name and business.”

“Grant.Grant Irnaskova,” he blurted. “I’ve been looking for you.” He felt her eyes searching him, looking for ill intent. His scar ached slightly as he fell under her merciless gaze for the second time. “In my pocket, there—“

“You’re from the bar.” she said as she frisked him with her free hand, pressing the barrel of iron into his neck. “No metal this time? Where’s your fancy-gripped revolver mister”

He stayed perfectly still, looking past her rather than at her. His heart pounded in his chest as he spoke. “In the ride, stashed in the glovebox.” 

Her eyes burned into him. Senn mirrored the image of a hunter about to catch her prey. “I think I’ve seen your face once before.” A bittersweet smile punctuated her line of questioning. “Have we met?” 

His heart thumped against his chest as her fruity scent filled his nostrils. An omega that domineered like an alpha. Exotic and rare to be sure. He could almost feel the dilation of his pupils at her scent and presence, and thanked the Goddess he’d been born a Beta. Were he an Alpha, there’d have been no salvation. 

Grant stiffened beneath her, “Once.”

Her eyes moved slowly as they roamed his face. Finally, a look of recognition flickered across her gaze. “The kid from the Bulge. That little private who gave me this...” she touched the jagged scar on her neck. 

Cautiously, he replied. “I am.”

Her gun moved from his neck to follow the long scar that marked him. Her voice came sultry and low. “Come to finish the job? Thought you’d take me out while I was alone?”

The murderous intent lacing her words drew a deep fear from within him. “My jacket pocket, left side, the notebook is my soul vessel. Take it and give me a chance to explain! I’m...I’m not your enemy Miss Vamaster,” he stammered. 

“I guess you Lakislavs aren’t _all_ talentless. The moment I caught your scent I knew you were an incubator,” she said, as she took the notebook from his pocket. Senn pressed the barrel hard into his neck as she looked it over, feeling the pulse of its supernatural energy.

Her knee pressed hard into his groin. “Alright, I’m listening. But first I want the name, power, and conditions” 

“Book of Clues, the conditions...are many and annoying.” He bit his cheek as he steadied his breaths, forcing his fear to the back of his mind. He focused on the rough asphalt under his head, and the cement pressing into his back under her weight. “Can you…please let me up?”

After a few moments of silent staring the woman got off of him. He didn’t immediately get up, instead he touched his face as if he almost died. Surprisingly, she offered him her hand. He took the offer but quickly came face to face with the end of her pistol. 

“Any sudden movements, funny business, or cute tricks, and one goes in your head.”

“Yes ma’am,” he nodded, wide-eyed.

She led him into her room. Her once short trimmed hair now brushed the small of her back. Her bangs possessed a single violet lock that she'd tucked behind her ear. Scars marked her muscular yet curved frame. Past her hair he caught glimpse of a large tattoo reading ‘788’ on her back. She’d attacked him nearly naked, wearing only black dress pants. 

The jacket and shirt she’d worn to the bar lay strewn across the room, along with a mix of other clothing. Unkempt sheets and a stack of stained pillows covered the bed. She took a pack of Kerryjams from one of the nightstands flanking the headrest, a low-quality brand of cigarettes. A black and white photo lay unframed on the nightstand next to the wall. 

He shifted uncomfortably at the doorway, looking down as she turned bare-chested toward him. “Well? Sit,” she said. “No use standing there looking worthless.”

Grant took a seat in the chair by the window. The legs creaked under his weight as he shifted to get comfortable. 

The Omega laid her gun across her lap as she sat at the edge of her bed. Her blue eyes narrowed as they bored into him. “Alright. Explain.” 

“May I reach into my jacket for my pipe?” he asked.

“Slowly.” 

He took a sharp breath, reached into his coat pocket for his leaf and pipe. “Betas have been going missing lately. Males, females, and anyone between. Incubators specifically.” He started to pack the pipe. “We’re being targeted.”

“I don’t care.” Senn took a drag, then exhaled a cloud of smoke. “It doesn’t explain why you’re here.” 

“I need a sidekick.” he said. 

Without blinking she said, “I refuse, find someone else. Now get out.” 

Grant shook his head frowning as he puffed his pipe, “I can’t solve this case without you. It’s one of my limitations.” 

Senn took a hard, long drag then put the lit butt out between two fingers. She practically fisted a second into her mouth as smoke billowed from her nose. “Your vessel requires you to have a sidekick? Okay, let’s say I believe that silly limitation…why me, exactly?”

Grant rubbed his face uncomfortably, crossing his arms as he held his pipe, blue smoke drifting from it’s chamber. A light, relieving feeling drifted through him as the leaf did its work. “So, uhm, the thing is, I can’t choose who it is. I’ll write my case goals in my Vessel, and then it translates that to my limitations. I get a riddle to lead me to my sidekick, then I have to convince them to join the case with me. That’s when the Book of Clues fully activates.”

Senn took a few more drags of her smoke, breathing slowly as she looked at the wall. Careless.. unconcerned.. those words didn’t begin to describe her apparent lack of interest. “You’re really fucked then, aren’t you?” she mused. 

He bit the end of his pipe, stifling a low growl. “I have a good amount of resources at my disposal. What do you want? I can give you a free place to stay, food, and better smokes than those.” When she seemed equally as disinterested as before he insisted, “and I can pay you nicely on top of it all.” 

Merriam would kill him for paying her on top of all that, but Grant knew her type. She couldn’t care less, but if everything she wanted could be provided for her she might concede to helping. 

“A free place, all the food, drink, and smokes I want, and pay,” she repeated. “What are the duties?”

“You ever read those old detective books? The ones with Macker and Brawn? Something along those lines, you just have to follow me around, try to help where you can, and be really good at helping me get out of trouble,” he explained. 

Her eyes rolled as she stood. She strolled to the bathroom, her voice echoing back, “ah, a nanny. Wonderful.”

“Partner, if you prefer,” he offered, staying seated as he pulled on the chain to his pocket watch, the time reading quarter-past two. He blinked away any sleepiness as he heard water running. “Even if you don’t actually do anything, the conditions of my Vessel require your presence. Think of it as a bodyguard job.”

The sound of her retching pierced the tense air. Carefully, he stood and approached the bathroom door, left wide open. Senn lurched over the porcelain palace, blood and bile dripping from her lips. 

Pill bottles lined the sink, as did unused needles. An unmarked vial of clear liquid stood next to a used needle. A few drops of blood stained the white sink. Hygiene products lined the rim of the tub. Two empty bottles of hormone suppressants were strewn on the tan-tiled floor. Bloodshot blue eyes stared up at him, lined with tears that were quickly blinked away. 

“Can I fuckin’ help you?” she spat. 

_Poor thing._ “I think you’re the one who needs help Miss Vamaster.” 

“Get out...or just wait outside, I’ll be out in a few minutes.” she wheezed. 

He took a cautious step forward, hands where she could see them. “You’re overdosing on juniper. Suffering the drawbacks.”

“What great detective skills you’ve got,” she laughed ruefully, a hand held out to ward him away. “Stay away.” 

He couldn’t. He knew the feeling of vomiting your insides out all too well. Life moved quickly, and he’d thankfully moved past that time. “No, let me help y—“

A bottle of shampoo whizzed past his head, exploding on the wall past the door. Thick, blue hair wash began to slowly drip down the wall. He knelt beside Senn, offering her his pipe.

“It’s wennleaf. It’s meant to soothe the nerves, but it should also settle your stomach,” he explained. 

She looked at him for a long time. He felt her eyes roam his face before settling on his scar. He knew that’s what she stared at the longest. Finally, a resigned look flashed in her eyes and she took the pipe, puffing a few times before she began to retch over the toilet again. 

Grant didn’t touch her, but stayed by her side as she emptied her stomach of both blood and bile.

As he watched on, memories of his own past ordeals played in his head. For the first time in years, he could almost feel that familiar twist in his stomach, leaving him sick, feening for more. Why did the Book of Clues lead him to her?

After several minutes, Senn stopped vomiting, now only dry heaving over the toilet. Grant chewed his cheek a moment before he felt confident enough to speak. “What happened to you, Miss Vamaster? I can’t imagine you were like—”

“Like what, a disaster? Bet you’re havin’ a little party inside that spikey head of yours thinking about it,” she sneered, wiping her mouth. 

“You really think the worst of me.” Whether she believed him or not mattered little. The truth of it was that he felt nothing but pity for her. Perhaps if she’d been in a better condition he might’ve wished some revenge for his scarring, for long fallen comrades. But watching the feared Ghost of Courlinde slowly wasting away on booze and drugs in some nowhere motel made him forget that. 

The scars they’d traded felt like more than enough right now. He looked for something in the apartment that wasn’t vodka. When he found none, he emptied a bottle into the sink. 

A cacophony of slurs and obscenity were launched his way as he rinsed it and filled it with water. Any lingering fear of her had left with the contents of her stomach. 

He knelt next to her and offered her the water. He repacked his pipe before offering it next. She never thanked him, and he guessed she didn’t think of it. “Well, I doubt you’re going anywhere tonight. We can head out in the morning.” he said. 

“Did I fuckin’ accept or something?” she spat, taking several long puffs of his pipe then sipping some water. 

Grant looked at his notebook, reading a line of text that slowly wrote itself, as if with an invisible hand. “You will, because you could use the money, right?”

The look that flashed in her eyes before she averted her gaze told him all that he needed to know. 

“It’s settled then,” he declared. “Glad to have you aboard Miss Vamaster.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second verse same as the first! Comments are appreciated, criticisms and such are always needed. Hopefully it wasn't too terrible haha!


End file.
